


Planet Pokémon

by lawfulbees



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawfulbees/pseuds/lawfulbees
Summary: A junior wildlife camera operator sets out to film the rarest Pokémon in the most remote locations.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Planet Pokémon

Here is why no one has ever filmed a wild Snorlax with its young:

They rear their cubs in the southern half of the Coronet Range, in dens they dig themselves out of the rock and snow. While they slumber in deep torpor, their infant Munchlax hatch underground, safely hidden from the elements and hungry predators. The same harsh conditions that drive hunters away from these nursery slopes—shrieking winds, poor visibility, and punishing hail—also make flying to these locations virtually impossible. To reach them, one must go by foot, over terrain through which no formal route has been established.

In addition, once in the mountains, local magnetic interference garbles all incoming and outgoing signals. Many trainers have learned, to their chagrin, that radios, PokéNavs, C-Gears, and even the latest Rotom Phones all fail past a certain altitude. Anyone up there is on their own.

Finally, while most hibernating Pokémon wake at the first sign of spring, Snorlax are notorious for oversleeping. The window for their emergence spans up to six weeks, and the camera operator must be present during that entire time or else risk losing their shot.

Here is why Panny will try anyway:

Camera loans are expensive for junior freelancers, and TV Mauville has promised a substantial commission for each minute of footage recording Pokémon on their shortlist.

Snorlax habitats have been shrinking for years, pushing displaced individuals as far south as Kanto, and professors around the world report that bred Snorlax are hatching fully evolved in response to environmental stress. Panny hopes her footage might help public awareness and conservation research.

On the peaks of Mt. Coronet, she will go without direct human contact for weeks. This is a good thing.

So.

Panny books a flight to Sinnoh. Her visa only allows her to bring one Pokémon, but even if she could carry more she wouldn’t. Supplies are her limiting factor: in addition to her camera, tripod, camping gear, and climbing equipment, she must carry enough dry rations to last the duration of the filming period. There will be no possibility of forage on the high, frozen slopes, and she will not be able to descend until the shoot is over.

After she lands, she takes a taxi to Oreburgh, where a friendly miner and her Machoke help Panny up the steep cliffs surrounding the city. Then, backpack teetering at least a foot over her head, Panny begins the hike.

Warming spring weather means that she does not immediately freeze solid, but has also made what little path exists muddy and slick. Her Pokémon partner, for the most part, stays in the ball—Sandshrews, even Alolan forms, are not particularly fast climbers—but sometimes the view simply demands that she stop. Then, when the fog clears, she and Marzi sit together, nibbling trail mix as they breathe in the scent of Sinnohan pine. The world feels bigger here, yet Panny does not feel small.

She climbs higher. The air is sharp in her lungs. Sinnoh is an old place, and the sky itself feels heavier here.

Not all the Pokémon in these mountains slumber away the new spring. On the first night, a wild Abomasnow finds Panny’s camp. Curled up inside her tent, teeth chattering from the sudden cold, she listens to its approaching footfalls and shushes Marzi’s mewling as it gets closer. The Repel she sprayed on the tarp seems enough to discourage its interest, but all the same, she doesn’t sleep very much.

The next morning, while she still has signal, she pulls out her brick of a Pokégear. She considers making a call. She sends a text instead.

 **P:** Still alive  
**P:** Top soon

She does not wait for the reply.

Soon, Panny leaves the tree line behind, and the tough montane foliage shrinks until there is nothing left but frozen rock and gravel crunching under her boots. While Marzi paws thoughtfully at the snow (it is crustier here than on Lanakila), Panny unfolds her map.

Satellite images picked up a promising blemish on this peak at the beginning of winter, a red “X” Panny marked now less than a mile away. She paces herself, all the same, picking her way across the crumbling slopes with a Dewpider’s delicacy. Glance, step, glance, step, a walking meditation, until Marzi brushes her ankle and squeaks.

Panny looks up, squinting against the harsh reflection of the sun on the snow, and sees the telltale shadow of a half-buried cave entrance ahead of her. Immediately, she scans the ground around it for footprints. She finds none.

Her sigh of relief fogs the air in front of her. The Snorlax has not yet emerged. She planned the expedition with plenty of time for her to get ahead of the lazy giant, but if Panny has learned anything on this job, it is that sometimes nature does as it wills.

She clicks her tongue, and Marzi perks her head. “Fort time,” Panny says, stacking her fists on top of each other. “Like when we were kids, yeah?”

Marzi snuffles in acknowledgment.

Together, they comb the surrounding slopes for a good place to put the hide. Stable, even footing is a priority, but it must also be a fair distance from the den, uphill if possible, with a mind toward composition, framing, all the things that make a shot worth keeping.

Eventually, they find a flat stretch of ground, on a ridge angled just so toward the Snorlax den. The lighting will be perfect in the morning, when the sun rises behind them. “Good?” asks Panny.

Marzi bobs her head, and begins. She sprays the site down with Powder Snow, thumping it flat with her tail, then cuts and stacks bricks in a pattern matching her scales. When she pauses to assess her work, thoughtful as a mason with compass and chisel, she is so cute Panny can’t resist reaching out to scratch her under the chin.

By nightfall, Marzi has built an igloo big enough for two. Their combined body heat warms the inside quickly, and to celebrate their arrival Panny gives her Sandshrew a star-patterned bean she’d been saving since they left Alola. Marzi gnaws away noisily and happily, then curls up in a puck-shaped disc on Panny’s lap.

The camera is primed, ready to fire at a second’s notice. A new wind hisses over the igloo. Panny sets her things down.

And then, she waits.


End file.
